


Try Three (It's Always better than one)

by Diana_Prallon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Episode: s01e08 The Beginning of the End, Magic Revealed, Multi, Polyamory, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:59:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diana_Prallon/pseuds/Diana_Prallon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the story of a Warlock, a High Priestess and a King and the kingdom they built, but the tale of how they became who they were destined to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try Three (It's Always better than one)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chosenfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chosenfire/gifts).



> I can't say how sorry I am for how long it took me to finish this - but the truth is, I just couldn't bring myself to do it; to finish the last story I had started before the finale. I was grieving - I still am - and it costed me too much to manage it. 
> 
> I had hoped to write a bigger story, telling about all the amazing changes that the described differences brought about, and while I may do it in the future, I feel that -this- story is complete in its own, and it should have been posted for a long time.
> 
> I should like to thank Chosenfire both for hosting the amazing Merlin Reverse Bang and for coming up with the wonderful art (and prompt ideas) that made me write this story. I can't apologize enough for being such a disappointment, but I -do- hope that late is better than never.
> 
> And I hope, honestly, that -this- isn't too far from what you wanted.

 

Art by [chosenfire](http://chosenfire28.livejournal.com/)28

 

 

Every turn one takes can change the future – even small things, that may feel inconsequential can change the whole shape of the world around us. While some things are on the hands of fate, most things can be re-shaped.

This is the story of a young boy that knew more about his destiny than most, and how he learned to defy things that had been foretold in order to make his destiny even brighter and shinier than it was imagined at first.

This is also the story of an arrogant Prince that knew nothing of his true importance to the future, and of how he learned that loyalty, trust and love were more important than rank, of how he turned from a spoiled little brat he had been raised to become the King of Legends.

And, most importantly, this is the story of a powerful seer and how she was saved from madness and loneliness by the power of different voices and different choices, and how instead of their worst enemy, she became the foundation in which the Legends were built.  
  
It is not the story of a Warlock, a High Priestess and a King and the kingdom they built, but the tale of how they became who they were destined to be while defying the predictions of old men and women, that could never dream of what they had between them; and of how they discovered the power of three.

* * *

 

Merlin woke up earlier than usual that day – he felt something weird in the air that he couldn’t quite name. Most days, finding himself to be awake too early for his regular hours, he’d lazy in bed until he managed to fall asleep again (and, of course, that led him to be late and Arthur to complain, but what would be the fun in life if he did everything properly?). Yet, something made him feel that if he didn’t rise at once, he’d be in trouble for a long time.

As he got ready to face the day ahead, he remembered that Gaius had been asking him for days to find some time to get him some herbs – not far in the forest, actually, they grew close to the southern gate, and yet, he hadn’t had the time. It seemed to Merlin that Arthur was trying to bury him under an endless pile of work – perhaps he thought that if Merlin was busy enough he wouldn’t have the time to mention what (he thought) had happened between Sophia and the Prince.

Of course that no one needed Merlin to know that Arthur had been acting like a fool – he had, after all, proclaimed his foolishness in front of the whole court when he said he’d marry Sophia one way or the other, and no one honestly thought that the prince had come to his senses and gave up on the mad idea. No, they probably thought that the King had made sure that his wishes were followed, even if it meant resourcing to force (not that Uther had ever shown any sort of qualms with the usage of force).

Arthur had little idea that Merlin wanted those things to be known even less than the prince did – it would be far harder to explain how exactly he had killed the sidhe when they were meant to be immortal and when he was supposed to be an ordinary country boy and not a wizard. Honestly, Arthur thought very little of him if he thought he couldn’t keep secrets – it seemed pretty obvious to Merlin that, between the two of them, Merlin was far better at it than Arthur.

Well, if he was up earlier than usual, he could at least go and fetch Gaius’ herbs. Breakfast would have to wait until he returned – certainly they wouldn’t feed him in the kitchens, but try and make him cook, and Gaius wouldn’t be up for almost another hour. It was still dark, and the fresh night air filled his lungs as he left the palace.

Merlin loved to come into the forest – Camelot was far too noisy, the smell of too many bodies pressed together and one could smell the horses even when away from the stables (and even when they had been meticulously scrubbed clean).  Under the cover of the woods, he felt almost back home, although he had never been alone in Ealdor. On the forest there were no nobles and no rules, and no secrets as well, for he had nothing to hide from the trees surrounding him or the animals that lived there: he could feel them, and they could feel him, bound by the mysterious laws of magic. Men would often say that it was lonely, but Merlin knew better – he knew that there was life pulsing all around him.

The first signs of light were showing through the shelter of the threes when he felt someone watching him. He stood up, immediately alert, surprised that someone had managed to reach him without him noticing it earlier. There was a figure standing, partially hidden by the trees in a dark cape – it was no one from Camelot, he was sure of it.

“Who are you?” he said, taking a small step back.

Merlin saw the person let the hood fall back, to show an old woman, her hair almost completely white.  She didn’t look like any sort of threat, but something inside him was still deeply disturbed by the way she had been watching.

” _Emrys”_ he heard a soft and yet powerful voice say, but he hadn’t seen her moving her lips. He took yet another step back, and he could sense more than see the woman smiling. “Do not worry, I mean you no harm”, she said, finally.

He didn’t reply, as he knew not what to say.

“It is an honor to meet you” she said, stepping forward, and this time Merlin didn’t step back. “Your life and your destiny have been foretold for years."

Although he had heard it before – and from a dragon, no less – it was the sort of thing that would always make him feel nervous. There was a sort of deference in the old woman’s voice, and it made him uneasy. Still, she was unlikely to harm him – there was a deep sadness in her eyes, but also kindness. He took a step closer trying to see her better.

The daylight was increasing, and he knew that if he took too long, he would be late once again, but he just couldn’t turn his back without knowing what had brought her so close to Camelot – one didn’t need to be a prophet to know that she was gifted with magic for it seemed to pour out of her very skin. For a moment, Merlin thought she was shining with power, but no, it had just been a trick of the light, and she was only an old woman, her face wrinkled and soft, eyes as dark as the night. She was plainly dressed, as a simple woman would be, in dark colors, and the only thing in her that caught his attention was that although it was still warm, she wore gloves, and fine ones, seemed to be made out of the finest silk.

“Who are you?” he asked again, not in the threatening manner he had done before, but honestly curious. “And why are you here?”

“I came here to find you, of course” she said with a smile, and turned her head slightly to the left, towards the sun. “A new day approaches, and it is your destiny to bring its dawn. My mother called me Eilan, but after all this time… Most of my people know me simply as Gweledydd.”

“Why?”  He asked, not even trying to repeat the name. “Who are your people?”

“I am a druid” she said, lightly. “And in the language of our people, my name means simply ‘Seer’.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just stared at her, wondering – would she come to let him know something? And did he even want to know more? Every single thing about destiny and his future that he had learned had only made his life harder, and he wasn’t sure he needed that.

“I come to you with a warning” she said, finally. “You are now at a crossroad, in which many paths are possible. The choices you make now can alter the future of many.”

“I thought my destiny had been foretold” replied Merlin, “that I couldn’t really change it.”

She shook her head, still smiling.

“Destiny is one thing – many paths can lead to the same conclusion. It is fate and not destiny that is impossible to be changed and shall happen one way or the other. And this is the reason I seek you now: your actions now may lead shape the fates of many, and while your destiny will be the same in the end, the road to it may be vary depending on what you do _now_. This is the moment, my child: this very day marks the beginning of the end, and it is in your hands _how_ it will end.”

Merlin felt chilled down to his bones, and if he had before felt like the weight of the things he must do crushed him; it had never been that hard. He felt little and young, terribly young, to be responsible for such things – he could hardly keep himself to his own path, how should him shape the roads that other people would take? He had magic, yes, and he was talent, but in the end of the day he was but a serving boy…

The seer was looking at him, and there was pity in her eyes, and he felt as if she knew everything he was feeling and everything he was thinking, all his questions and doubts.

“How can I do that?” his voice was strangled by the fear.

Eilan took out the left glove, and Merlin saw that there was a tattoo in the inside of her wrist – three spirals that were joined in the middle, and a birthmark like a sickle in the middle of it. It felt unnatural, but the look in her eyes eased his nerves – but only for a moment, for in the next, her old hand was touching his arm and he was _seeing_ things.

A young boy, hurt, in Morgana’s chambers, held against her bosom. He knew he was dying, and he knew he should do something about it. Morgana, in a red cap, taking the boy out in the dark and then Arthur was guiding him through the lower levels of the dungeons. He saw the man’s lips forming his name, calling to the night, but no one came, except of the guards of Camelot, and there was blood and a body of a child rooting in the castle’s square under Uther’s satisfied gaze, while Arthur and Morgana were in the dungeons like prisoners.

But, no, he was there and they had gotten out – the boy was free. Morgana was crying and screaming for Arthur, and he didn’t listen to her pleas, and soon he was lying dead, or close to it, and Merlin knew he’d give his life for his to continue. And he did, but he couldn’t do the same to Morgana, not when she was enchanting the whole castle, and he saw her scared eyes as she died – no, she was alive, and bringing an army against the city, the young boy had grown and walked with her in war, his sword meeting Arthur’s body with an disconcerting ease.

Everything swirled once again, and he was in Morgana’s arm as she kissed his brow and cried in happiness. She was conjuring flames, and he saw himself smile to her, knowing that he had taught her well. Arthur was there, too, tall and proud; the crown in his head, as he called and the grown boy kneeled to become a knight under Morgana’s kind smile on the king’s left, and Merlin on his other side, like equals, also beaming at the child that had made it all possible.

There were other images – chaotic and too fast for him to understand it well enough or to sort it out in the middle of it all: Gwen’s smile as she became a wife in Camelot’s great hall; Lancelot walking to his death; men he didn’t know fighting for his life; both Morgana and Gwen wearing crowns, and neither looking pleased about it; Sir Leon inciting the knights to fight; Gaius being tortured and Uther crying over Arthur’s body with a weird chain around his neck.

Merlin blinked, and he was again in the forest, still a young boy, feeling completely dizzy after all the information he had received. He looked at the woman in awe; for he had never expected such thing, and there was concern in his eyes.

“This is the gift of Prometheus” Eilan said, gravely. “But it is also a curse, for knowing too much is far worse than knowing nothing. It is a burden to live without ever touching another thing, and almost every three and every stone carry their own memories and imprints, all that was and all that might be – it is almost too much for a mind to bear.”

“It must be lonely” he muttered, still trying to clear his head. He knew what he didn’t want to happen, but he had no idea of what could he do to make sure that those things would never come to pass. A curse indeed.

“Not more lonely than having to carry a destiny such as yours, my child” she said, and while it might have comforted him on another moment, right now, he needed answers. “ I have shown you all the possibilities that his day might bring; but only you can make it be one way or the other.”

“I don’t know how” he started, and then shook his head. “How will I know what I should do, and what will change each of those things? How can I make sure that…”

He swallowed hard, uncertain of how he felt or what could he think.

“I could not give you the answer, even if I knew” she went on sad, and a spark of anger ran through him: why did she warn him if she couldn’t help him avoiding it? But as she continued to speak, he felt it vanish once again. “But I _do_ know this: you should keep counsel with your own heart, first and foremost. You are just a boy, and it is natural that you’d seek the advice of others – older, or more powerful than you. Yet, this future is yours and yours alone, and you should temper what you listen with your own natural wisdom. You have a good heart – a big heart – and I am sure that it will lead you to the right path if you listen to it.”

“But…” he begun, still feeling confused and worried; but she silenced him with a gesture.

“The guards are coming – I must leave before I am found” she said, and the seer whispered a few words, holding her hands together and vanished in a swirl of leaves.

It wasn’t even morning yet, but Merlin knew that this was bound to be a day he would never forget.

* * *

For such an extraordinary day, most things were pretty normal. He was late, and Arthur complained about that (after he has already complained that he didn’t want to wake up and that the fruits he had brought for breakfast were too cold). They had gone to the usual training after Uther had given them leave to, not having anything of importance to discuss. Arthur’s plate was terribly dirty, as if he had been cleaning up the stables with them instead of practicing swordplay.

Merlin was walking back to the prince’s chambers when he heard a voice screaming – a boy’s voice. He turned around, but the corridor was completely empty.

“Help”, he heard, but there was still no one in sight. He walked back, trying to find the source of the sound, but there was no one. He stepped on to the square, and while there were a lot of people and even some agitated guards, none of them seemed to the source of what he had heard.

And then, once again.

“Help me, please!”

It was clear that there was no screaming – no one else was looking around. It was like the boy was talking inside his head, and Merlin had never thought that possible. Somehow, he _knew_ that this was where everything the druid woman had shown begun, even if some of the images that he saw seemed to be blotched and faded, impossible to recall properly, as if he was trying to figure out a dream as if faded away.

After a few seconds, he saw a small boy hiding. He was almost in front of the steps, and it was a wonder that no one else had seen him, as the guards were clearly asking about him. Well, if he could speak to Merlin alone, he might also be able to make himself unnoticeable.

“They are searching for me”, said the voice, and the boy looked truly scared.

“Why are they after you?” Merlin trying to make his thoughts known to the boy, and he must have been able to, for the boy seemed to move his head to the sides, trying to clear something up.

“They are going to kill me” he pleaded, and Merlin saw the guards gesturing to the other side of the square. He moved towards one of the side doors, opening it and moving inside. There was no movement behind him, no one took great notice of his doings, and then he turned his thoughts to the boy once again.

“This way. Run. Run!”

The boy ran as fast as he could, clutching his arm, but it was not fast enough: one of the guards saw him, and Merlin heard them yelling directions as they ran through the curled stairs. He had no idea of how he could hide the boy inside the castle, but soon it become clear in his mind – Morgana. He was closer to her chambers anyway, and no one would barge in there. He could only hope that she would not turn against them – she couldn’t, not the woman she knew.

He burst through the doors with the boy in his arms, and the lady seemed both surprised and annoyed by his entrance.

“Merlin! Have you forgot how to knock?” she chided, while Gwen looked shocked, as if no one had ever done such thing before – which was probably the case: not only it was deeply impolite to intrude to a lady’s chamber without being allowed in, but also most people knew better than to incur into Morgana’s rage. But, right now, there was no time for such niceties.

“The guards are after him. I didn’t know what to do.”

That made her look even more confused, for it was unusual that such a young boy would have cause to be persecuted. Still, the truth of his words shone as there was a knock on the door and the voice of one of the guards rang through the solid wood.

“My lady? My lady?”

For a moment she said nothing to either, and Merlin’s heart trembled with fear: would she turn her back on them? And then, imperiously, she gestured for them to move.

“In there” she said, her voice much lower, and waited for them to be behind one of the pillars and hidden by the screen before she opened just a crack of the door to talk to the man.

“I am sorry to disturb you, My lady”, the guard was said as the boy collapsed in Merlin’s arm. He struggled to keep both from making any noise as the man went on. “We’re searching for a young druid boy. We believe he came this way.”

Although Merlin could not see her face, he knew from the tone of Morgana’s voice that she had her eyebrows raised in a clear reproach as she answered.

“I haven’t seen anyone. It’s just me and my maid.”

The guard must have known as well that although her words were simple and educated, she disapproved of his interruption – and, probably, thought that she was displeased by the fact that they had manage to lose a young boy inside the castle. Most people believed that Morgana was a polite young lady that approved of everything the King did, but most of them also didn’t have as many chances as Merlin had had to have a closer contact to her, and he knew he was anything but what she appeared to be.

“Best to keep the door locked until we find him” suggest the guard, tense.

“Of course” she replied, subtly making it clear that she thought it was their own fault that they were in such position. “Thank you”.

As both women came back to where they stood, Merlin allowed the boy’s body to slid a bit against his, and as he looked at his hand, it was tainted with his blood.

* * *

Morgana couldn’t quite remember when it was that she begun to believe that Uther’s hatred of magic bordered on insanity. She knew it had taken her a while – she was still young when she came to live in the castle, too young to care about such things. Even on those first years, she had loved the King dearly, for he made everything he could to ensure she’d have everything she need and that she would never miss her father’s love. Of course, it wasn’t the same thing – it could never be – but it was clear that he cared for her, and it had been enough. If he thought some people were evil, well, he must have a reason. Her father had trusted him, so, he couldn’t be a bad person.

Only when they begun to consider her a young woman instead of a child was that she learned more about what was happening in the kingdom. People wouldn’t tell her things, not yet, but she could overhear them – the stories of how Uther was persecuting people even before they used any kind of sorcery; how he had made sure that all dragons were slay and all dragonlords killed. She was no longer a child, and she then found out about the Great Purge and how Camelot’s army had invade the holy isle and murdered the priests and priestesses that dwelled there; how Uther had made sure all the other kingdoms supported his views on magic through threats and war – and this had been how his father had died.

Sometimes she wondered if her father was a different man from what she remembered if he was close to Uther even during his madness and his terrible decisions. Morgana wanted to believe that Gorlois had held him from being that harsh and that the loss of his closest friend had made him harsher – yet, she knew it might not be the case.

For a while, she tried not to give those things much credit – it was all in the past, before she had come to live with him. He might have been a different man back then, still too grief stricken to think straight – too stubborn to accept a half-victory. It meant nothing to the present.

But when Arthur turned 18, he had been given his first missions to command. She had been in Camelot for half of her life then, and she had known the prince since he was still learning his first letters – enough to believe she knew him well. And yet, the third time he came back, he looked different, as if something inside him had broke.

It took a lot of nagging and pushing to get him to tell her his tale – of how he had been sent to annihilate a druid camp and how even though he commanded them to spare the woman and children, the guards and knights would not hear him. She could only imagine how he felt, and for a while, there were dark marks under his eyes and she knew he wasn’t sleeping well. Morgana hadn’t even been there, and yet, she often had nightmares about the expedition.

She had too many nightmares, they had been a constant in her life, but after her conversation with Arthur, they seemed to increase steadily. Gaius tried to help her with sleeping drafts, but they had little effect on her. It was as if something inside her had woken, and it would never sleep again.

Soon Morgana started to pay a lot more attention to the small events around her – a man imprisoned for making coins appear out of thin air; who only escaped death because he managed to explain the trick to the counselors (he hadn’t even done any magic, but the King had found his tricks enough to earn a reprimand). Not long after, she was called to watch as Uther executed a woman found guilty of using charms and enchantments – later she learned that her crime had been assuring that the shoemaker’s wife didn’t die while giving birth to her youngest child.

It became clear to her that the idea of magic was being punished, not the dark powers themselves.    The king cared very little if the person’s acts were meant to harm people or to help them: all that he cared was that it didn’t want magic in his kingdom.

She had never been one to stay silent in the face of injustice, and soon she learned that when it came to magic, Uther was deaf to all pleas and arguments. Of course, that didn’t mean she would stop trying and repeating herself, and showing him how much she disapproved of his actions. Morgana was many things, but she had never been a liar; she would not pretend.

That was the main reason for her to be in her chambers while Arthur stood by Uther’s side in the balcony, facing the square. The druid man was already bound and upon the stage, but the King clearly meant that moment to be marked by his words – he never failed to use a chance to remind everyone of how he ruled.

“People of Camelot, the man before you is guilty of using enchantments and magic. Under our law, the sentence for this crime is death.” There was a pause as he allowed his words to sink in the crowd. “We’re still searching for his accomplice. Anyone found harboring the boy is guilty of conspiracy, and will be executed as a traitor.” A heartbeat, and then the next – how could Merlin look at it calmly? “Let this serve as a warning to your people.”

Morgana wasn’t sure if he meant the druids or those inside Camelot that traded with them, and it didn’t matter, for the man was speaking, his voice loud, clear and firm even though he knew his life was about to end.

“You have let your fear of magic turn to hate. I pity you.”

His words rang true, and there was no shiver in his body, but an endless sadness directed to the King. He was a brave man, facing death like that, and it made her feel ashamed even as she spoke.

“I can’t watch this.”

She had seen it before and knew it too well – the blood, the head jumping towards the crowd, the eyes still rolling and the body falling with an empty thud. Morgana sat on the floor and pulled the boy close to her – it felt as if it was somehow her fault that the man was dying and that the child would be left alone, and in a wild mutter, she trying to assure him that she’d care for him, but the words died in her throat as she heard the sound of the ax cutting her air. There was a scream – a loud, impossible scream coming from the unmoving boy and her beautiful roman mirror cracked.

She held him close, no knowing what to do, as she felt his loss as if it were her own; her lips moving of their own accord and telling him that she’d keep him safe, that no harm would come to him, that she would not give up.

She meant each and every one of them.

* * *

Merlin got back to the main part of the palace with Gaius’ words still ringing in his ears “For someone with such a big secret, you are a terrible liar” – soon the physician would find out that he had helped the druid boy escape, and it seemed that he was already preparing himself for it. He had lied often and a lot, but he had always been able to tell Gaius everything – and now even that was no longer true. He knew, deep inside his heart, that he’d never just accept his advice again to stay in the side of caution; he would not turn against what he believed to be right, and had Merlin allowed the boy to be executed, he’d never be able to live with himself.

The guards were still searching the town – not only houses, but carts, bags and anything that might give them inkling to the boy’s whereabouts. He didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was walking faster around them (then again, he was so often late and had been in the stocks so many times that they probably wouldn’t think that him running around was anything unusual).

Merlin went straight to Morgana’s chambers, ignoring his chores. Arthur had been out of them most of the time since the search begun, and surely they could wait for long enough. He knocked for only a moment, announcing his name before walking inside. He could see the boy’s wound had a new dressing (probably Gwen’s work, although she wasn’t around), and Morgana looked worried, close to his side.

“How is he?” he asked, seeing her expression.

“He’s sleeping” she stated, and then added “He’s very pale. I fear he has lost a lot of blood.”

Merlin nodded at her, kneeling beside the sleeping boy for a while and checking on his general state as he had often seen Gaius do.

“Has he said anything at all?” he wondered, looking at her.

“Nothing. He won’t even tell me his name.”

There was something in her voice – a longing or a gentleness that made him look at her instead of looking to the boy. He had always thought she was incredibly beautiful, her dark hair falling in waves against her pale skin. Every trace of her face seemed to have been thought as to make a perfect harmonic look. Normally, it was marked by her almost cruel smile and her confidence, but as she watched the sleeping boy, there was a deep vulnerability to her features that made her even prettier – more human.

He had dealt with her before and could safely say he knew her better than most people in Camelot, but never he had thought of her the way he did now: as a whole person, with soft spots and dark thoughts. Someone as real as he was, or Gwen, or Gaius, or Arthur.

“You know – er, for a moment there, earlier, I thought you were going to hand us over to the guards” he confessed, embarrassedly. He could tell her that now – he could admit how silly his moment of fear had been.

“I’m glad you have so much faith in me, Merlin” she replied, all the softness gone. Her voice was sharp and exasperated enough to say his name almost the same way Arthur did when he was annoyed. He had never noticed how much alike they could be, and yet, they were completely different.

“No, no,  sorry” he added, nervously. I meant, you’re the King’s Ward” still, Morgana was looking at him as if he had grown a second head. “You’re taking a huge risk helping the boy.”

He knew he was making very little sense – anyone would be taking a huge risk, and probably she was safer than most. She had never restrained herself from confronting Uther, but words were one thing, and actions were another. He had not truly known if she’d be willing to make a move against the king’s orders, and only some almost faded memories from his meeting with the druid seer that had led him there. The truth was that something inside him hoped that she would be more tolerant of magic, unlike Arthur.

“I wouldn’t see an innocent child executed” she announced, as if it was a rule he’d do well to remember, and then her eyes moved back to the boy. “What harm has he ever done anyone?”

“Uther believes he has magic, and that makes him guilty” he said, slowly, trying to hide the size of his critique through his soft tone, hoping that Morgana would raise to the bait.

“Uther’s wrong” she said, firmly. There was no doubt in her voice, nor in her eyes, and yet – yet—he had to be sure.

“You believe that?”

It felt impossible to him that she wasn’t hearing his heart beating in his chest. No one, not even Gaius had gone as far as to say such thing. And then, as she looked vulnerable and uncertain once again, he knew his heart was about to either break viciously or swell more than he could handle. She avoided his eyes, looking elsewhere as she begun to speak.

“What if magic isn’t something you choose? … What if it chooses you?”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, seeking reassurance, and he couldn’t speak. His emotions were locking his throat, and she tensed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I am not sure what you mean” he said, needing confirmation. “How can it choose you?”

She shrugged, impatiently.

“Why would anyone choose to have magic when it is punished with death? Why would one _seek_ to live a life in which you are never safe? It makes no sense.”

“So they can be more powerful than others?” he asked, frowning. “So they can turn things into their favor?”

Morgana shook her head, disagreeing.

“Some of them, maybe – yes; but not all of them. Do you think he wanted to have magic?” Her head pointed towards the child. “I have been here for longer than you, Merlin, and I have seen far more people being executed for healing, caring for animals and fertilizing fields than for using magic against other people. I don’t think _magic_ is evil – I think magic is what people make of it.”

For a few seconds, he could only stare at her, almost unable to believe in his own ears. Not even in his wildest dreams he expected such an answer; it was clear not only that she had spent a long time thinking about it but also that it was no simple rebellion that led her to act as she did, but a fundamental belief that what Uther did was wrong – that everything the King stood for was wrong.

“Say something!” she ordered, clearly fidgeting and maybe even regretting how much she had exposed herself, but he couldn’t allow that, not when she had said nothing wrong but exactly what he had always needed to hear; not when she had opened her heart to him and not when she was ready to accept him for who he is rather than the fiction he had to play every day.

“I have magic” he blurted out, unable to control himself. Her eyes got incredibly wide, and he went on. “I was born with it.”

For a moment, Morgana seemed on the verge of screaming out. Merlin didn’t even know what he’d do if she called for the guards – he should have thought about that before – but it wasn’t just him, there was the boy as well. Her lips parted, but she didn’t yell for help, merely stopped, analyzing him for eternal seconds before she got closer to him and spoke.

“Does anyone know?”

“Gaius” he confessed, and she nodded as if she had figured that much out. “I haven’t… I can’t… I shouldn’t…”

“Thank you” she said, finally, squeezing his hand.  
  
Morgana looked right into his eyes, as if trying to reassure him by the intensity of the stare alone. Her fingers crushed his as if he, too, was a child in her care, who needed to be protected. It made Merlin feel uneasy and he dropped his eyes for a while, only to find her smiling at him warmly when he looked back at her.

 “Is that why you decided to help him?”

Merlin just nodded, and Morgana’s hold became softer, her fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that was at the same time intimate and comforting. For a moment they stood where they were, both looking at the druid, their hands clasped.

“What do you think we should do with him? He can’t stay here.”

“We have to find a way to get him back to his people.”

* * *

Arthur was mildly surprise to find Morgana dining with the King when he got into the council room – usually, when Uther decided to execute someone she would refuse to join him for meal; but maybe his father had left her little choice or maybe, after the latest happenings, she was finally beginning to see some sort of sense.

Of course, he wouldn’t hold his breath waiting on this.

His father, on the other hand, didn’t seem to find anything amiss on their meal except for Arthur’s empty hands, as usual.

“What news of the hunt for the Druid boy?”

Part of him felt rather disgusted to hear the king refer to a child as if it were an animal, but, unlike Morgana, he knew how to choose his battles.

“We have conducted an extensive search” he said, composed. “The boy is nowhere to be found.”

His father’s face turned into a scowl, as Arthur had known it would.

“You mean you failed to find him?”

Uther had a way of saying this as if Arthur was personally and solely responsible for the failure – and, yes, it was his job to command and supervise the man, but not even Uther could expect him to be everywhere at once.

“Perhaps he has already left the city” offered Arthur, honestly hoping that it was true. He hadn’t seen the boy, but from the descriptions, he was still quite a small child.

“You’re telling me that a wounded boy was able to evade the guards and escape the city?”

His tone was completely outraged, and Arthur knew he would went on complaining and saying the same things he had said before, so he chose not to point out the flaws in his logic.

(Yes, he was wounded, but he was a boy and children are resilient, he probably would be fine for hours before he started to feel the injure; kids had an easier time hiding and could pass through gaps and holes that grown men could not. Arthur himself had done it often when he was a child, escaping from the tutors and roaming free through the plains around the city.

That was not to mention that just a few moons back they had seen a sorcerer disappear in the midst of the crowded square after cursing Uther; Arthur wasn’t about to forget that anytime soon – it had led to a close attempt on his life and he wasn’t completely sure he was glad to have been saved since it meant he was now bound to his idiotic servant).

It seemed to Arthur that they were wasting time and resources on something that wasn’t important at all.

“He’s just a boy.” He complained, thinking about his man and how they should be training for real threats. “What harm can he do?”

“He’s a druid, and that makes him dangerous”

He had known it was pointless even before saying it, and he wasn’t surprised with his father’s answer; but Morgana spoke as well:

“The Druid’s would see your father’s kingdom destroyed.”

Arthur spun around to look at her at that, it felt extremely odd. Morgana was generally the first to speak against persecutions, and she gave him a smile that didn’t put him at ease. There was some mockery in it (as usual), but it just didn’t feel like her normal self – it was almost as if she was defying him to disagree with her.

“I had no idea you were such an authority on druids” he snapped at her, and she smirked.

“Morgana is right” said Uther, and Arthur didn’t need to look at him to know that he was glowing with pride – he never treated Morgana with the same harshness he reserved for Arthur, and her smile stayed in place, but it felt awkward and forced. “Double your efforts”

“Yes, father” he said tiredly, turning to leave.

“Keep searching until you find him”.

Arthur left the room without another word, the disappointment in his father’s voice still in his ears and Morgana’s challenging smile burned to his eyes.

* * *

Morgana knew she was fretting, but it was hard not to when the boy had awoken her in the wee hours of the mourning with a strangled cry of pain. He had not opened his eyes, not really, and they seemed to be rolling off inside his head – not in dreams, but in pain. She had sent Gwen for a bath as soon as the girl had arrived, for the cold water would surely break the fever down.

 They had taken a great deal of care on undressing the limp boy, and even if he was just a child, they both felt terribly awkward in bathing him. The shock did help out the fever for a little while (after he had trashed and trembled as if he was about to die, and Morgana had let out a pained cry while Gwen kept her calm and said it was to be expected), but before noon the boy was already burning up again.

Morgana sent Gwen to both find Merlin and get copious amounts of water – and together they had chosen a number of excuses in case someone questioned her activities. Merlin arrived soon enough, and went to see the boy. He looked troubled as he spoke.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Since early this morning” she said her voice tight. “I think the wound might be infected. We need to get Gaius before it gets any worse.”

She had seen him shaking and moaning in pain, and he looked even paler than when he first came into her room. Morgana had a terrible feeling that his life was on the verge of being lost.

“No” said Merlin, firmly. “We can’t involve Gaius, it is too dangerous.” Before she had a chance to argue that Gaius could probably get away with anything, he went on. “Besides, if he finds out about this, he’ll execute me himself.”

Morgana would have chuckled if the situation wasn’t that dire.

“We need to get him out of Camelot and we can’t do it while he’s sick. We need a physician.”

“I’ll treat him” offered Merlin, easily. Morgana could hardly believe in her own ears.

“Do you know how to treat an infected wound?” she asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Not exactly, but I’m a fast learner.”

She was about to give him a piece of his mind on this when they heard footsteps near – clearly guards marching, not Gwen’s light gait – and there was a knock on the door. There was no point in arguing further if they had been found, still, Morgana closed the curtains and worked herself into composure as she opened the door.

Arthur was on the other side, accompanied by a handful of men.

“Arthur!” she said, her voice chirpy. “To what do I own this pleasure?”

The look he gave her was halfway between accusing and annoyed.

“Don’t get all excited” he said, walking around the room and she rolled her eyes. He was such a pig. “It’s not a social call.” Morgana would have slapped him if she thought it would make him behave more like a proper human being. “I’m looking for the Druid boy – I’m afraid I’m going to have to search your chambers.”

There was a shiver of fear in her spine, but she straightened her back to stand tall and hid her panic in a mask of indignation.

“You are _not_ searching my chambers!”

Arthur gave her a mild look, clearly not impressed with her anger.

“Don’t take it personally; I have to search the entire castle. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Morgana knew he was under Uther’s orders, but she had to trust herself and find a way to avoid him finding the boy – there were lives depending on it.

“I’m not having you mess up my things!” she added, walking closer to him and taking the bow he had been inspecting from his hands.

“I’m not interested in your things” answered Arthur tiredly. “I’m just looking for any evidence that the Druid boy’s in the castle.”

Morgana used her face to express just how unlikely, ridiculous and plainly offensive that had sounded, but Arthur didn’t seem to care. Uther’s latest fits must have been intense indeed.

“Perhaps the Druid boy’s hiding in your chambers” she said, changing her tone to teasing. “They’re usually such a mess, you’d never know.”

That got his attention – Arthur could ignore her anger and her temper tantrums, but he couldn’t help himself when someone was mocking him.

“It’s hardly my fault I have such a lazy idiot for a servant.”

Morgana had to contain herself not to flinch – it was her fault that Merlin had been neglecting his duties in the last few days, and, of course, Arthur might not know that he was there and listening, but _she_ did. He was truly compassionate, tender hearted and incredibly brave, and yet, she doubted that Arthur had even noticed.

“If you can’t even find your own servant, what hope do you have of finding the boy?”

She had a smirk in her face, challenging him, and he was clearly annoyed – it was the kind of thing that Uther would say and _mean_ it. Probably the King had no idea Merlin had been way lately, or he’d not only have said something but also would have suspected his involvement on hiding the boy. Whether it was loyalty from Arthur’s part (not wanting to be forced to fire Merlin) or whether it was fear of what would Uther say (and he could be truly vicious), the fact was that he probably had to make a conscious effort to cover for his servant’s absence, and if Arthur hadn’t trusted the boy, he wouldn’t do that.

He had never been nearly this close to any servant before – to anyone, really, except for her – but, of course, Merlin was rather good at keeping him out of balance and walking in line; and it couldn’t hurt that he seemed so eager to do anything and everything in his power to keep Arthur safe – he had saved Arthur’s life twice publicly, and now Morgana was starting to wonder if there hadn’t been other times that the prince knew nothing about, in which Merlin had used his secret skills.

(Maybe… Maybe this was why Sophia had disappeared so suddenly. She would ask him about it on the first chance she got).

“I’m really touched by the confidence you have in my abilities” he said, and while his voice was full of sarcasm, this shoulder blades were clearly tight with tension. “And as much as I’d love to stay and talk, the sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll be finished.”

“I’ll save you the trouble” she said, gesturing towards the door, but Arthur ignored her, still roaming around.

“Trust me, if I could find him, I would.”

“The boy or your _man_ servant?” she teased, and that made him look at her, something akin to anger in the corner of his eyes. It reminded her of the court jester that had lived in her father’s household and that had come with her to Camelot – the old man always told her that the truth usually hurt people, but that taking refuge in audacity was a foolproof way of making people laugh at their own failings. All her other resources had failed, so, she might as well try it.

“The Druid boy’s hiding behind the screen” she announced, and Arthur looked at her, shocked for one second before it turned into disbelief. “I’m sure your father would _love_ to know how you wasted time by rifling through my things.” Morgana gave him her trickiest smile. “Go on.”

“So you can have the satisfaction of making me look a fool?” he questioned, now truly annoyed.

Now, that was just _too_ easy.

“In my experience, you don’t need any help looking like a fool” she offered, showing him her teeth. “What are you waiting for? Take a look!”

She knew Arthur loved his own pride too much to risk it like that, especially in front of her, so it was easier to smile now.

“Why don’t you go back to brushing your hair or whatever it is that you do all day?” He asked, angrily, moving towards the door.

“Bye, Arthur” she said, her voice as sweet as possible. “Good luck with the search!”

She would have felt sorry for him if he weren’t such an ass.

 

* * *

 

Merlin could feel his head spinning – it was too much, and he had no idea what to do. He _had_ told Morgana he’d talk to Gaius, but he was almost sure that the old man was going to be angry at him for having something to do with the story. The great dragon had advised him against helping the boy, but Merlin just couldn’t face that idea. It was just a child, scared and sick, almost dead, if he did nothing, his death would forever be on his conscience as much as if it had been his own hand that had killed him.

In the back of his head – not quite forgotten but also a mindful thought, was the voice of the old druid seer telling him to follow his heart first and foremost.

Gaius was complaining about the security around the castle, but Merlin could hardly listen and as soon as it became clear that the physician had stopped talking, he told him the truth.

“Morgana’s hiding the Druid boy in her chambers”

For a second he thought Gaius’ eyebrow would effectively mingle with his hair in disapproval, and his voice was cool when he spoke.

“When you say that Morgana’s hiding the Druid boy, I take that it means that you’re helping her”

It was both a statement and a question.

“Sort of.”

There was both anger, disappointment and resignation as he went on.

“Merlin, you promised me that you wouldn’t get involved.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said, and he truly was. He never wanted to be a nuisance for Gaius. “I had no choice.”

That seemed to ignite Gaius’ wrath.

“Every guard in Camelot is searching for this boy and you are harboring him under their very noses! Can’t you see how dangerous that is? What were you thinking of?”

He had never seen his tutor so angry, and it made him feel indignant.

“Was I supposed to hand him over to the guards to be executed?”

That didn’t mollify the old man in the slightest.

“You think you can save this boy? What happens if you’re caught? Who’s going to save _you_?”

A part of him knew that it was love that made Gaius be so harsh, that he was worried about his safety, but it wasn’t enough. Merlin was in no more danger than in most of the times he saved Arthur under his very nose! It felt clear to him that the physician was so deeply worried about Merlin’s own safety that he was willing to let children die if it meant he wouldn’t get caught – he had even ignored Morgana’s dreams, and _she_ was about as safe as a person could be from persecution. Sometimes, instead of a safe heaven, Gaius’s intense care towards Merlin felt more like a prison.

“You’re saying it’s wrong to harbor a young magician?” he asked point blank, too incensed to care if he was being rude. The tone and the words did get to Gaius, and his voice was softer when he spoke again.

“The difference is, Merlin, that your magic is still secret – thought it’s a wonder how considering how careless you are.”

Merlin could only imagine what would be Gaius’ reaction when he found out that Morgana knew about his powers.

“The boy’s hurt”, he pleaded. “He’s really sick. I’ve tried to treat him. We need your help.”

“So now you want me to risk my neck too?” The man shook his head, tiredly. “I wish the boy no harm, but it’s too dangerous.”

“But if you don’t, we may as well hand him over to the guards because he’ll die anyway!” Merlin just didn’t want to believe Gaius wouldn’t help. He knew the man was compassionate, and he needed to appeal for the best in his nature. “You didn’t turn your back on me. Please don’t turn your back on him.”

He knew he was aiming low, but there was more than a life depending on his success – Gaius’ own self and their relationship might break beyond repair if the old man chose Uther above his kind.

He never felt as much relief as when the physician finally sighed and agreed.

* * *

“Take the boy to the dungeons. I’ll escort the Lady Morgana to her chambers.”

Arthur’s voice was sure, but Morgana knew him well enough to know that if the guards hadn’t been all around them, he would have let them go. He was shaking with fury, but she couldn’t stay quiet.

“He’s just a child” she pleaded, but he said nothing, just kept on walking by her side. “I couldn’t…”

“I’ll hold on until the morning to talk to my father” he said, coolly. “You should get some sleep and make yourself presentable to see him in the morning.”

“How can you…” she started, but the look he gave her made her silent.

“I’ll do what I can to assure your lives are spared” Arthur offered, swiftly. “But you know my father. He cares little if it is a boy or a grown man.”

Morgana had to fight to keep herself from crying, but she managed to nod to him, acknowledging his offer. They spoke no more as he held the door open to her and called for the guards to stand at the doorway – not for her safety, but to stop her from trying to help the boy once again.

She felt the impotence and fear inside her very bones, she was tired to the very core of her being, but she couldn’t sleep. How could she rest when she had promised the boy that nothing would happen to him only to get caught? They had made such an effort – hidden him for days, treated him during his illness, only to lose it all when they were almost free of the shadow of execution.

If he died, it would be Morgana’s fault. She should have let Merlin take him – it had been foolish to try and do it herself when he probably had better ways of making sure they’d reach their destination. Still, she couldn’t help but fear what would happen if he was caught – how much she would be losing with his death; how much _the kingdom_ would be losing with this death.

It was too late for what-ifs now. She unfastened Gwen’s gown, taking it out and hanging it on the screen. Morgana picked one of her simpler dresses, made of plain wool and dyed in green to use in the morning. For a long while, she just stood there, looking around to the room that had been her dwelling for the last thirteen years, wondering if she’d ever see it again – for all her brave words to Merlin and Gwen, she wasn’t completely sure Uther wouldn’t turn against her.

Once, she might have cried, but now, she felt too broken even to burst into tears. Was that the land that was meant to mean home to her? A place in which kids were executed for the crimes of people long dead and for the anger of a man that turned his grief into hate…? How could she stand by and allow those things to happen? And how could she leave?

She was still sitting in her dresser, her mind spinning with questions, when Arthur arrived to take her to the Council Chamber. Upon seeing her, Uther dismissed everyone but the Prince, and stood by, the table, unable to even look at her face.

“All this time, you’ve been hiding the boy in my own palace. How could you betray me like this?”

There was true disappointment in his tone, and she could understand it – it was the same thing she felt upon hearing that he meant to execute children.

“I would not see him executed” she answered, truthfully.

“I’ve treated you like a daughter. Is this how you repay me?”

This, of course, was what he said every time she did something he didn’t agree with.

“I did what I thought was right” – as her father had taught her; to follow her conscience rather than other’s.

“You think it’s right to conspire with my enemies against me?”

“Conspire?” she repeated, amazed. Uther had always had a vein for being overdramatic. “How can this child be your enemy? He’s _just a boy_.”

It seemed completely unreasonable to accuse a child, not even ten years old, to be conspiring against the throne.

“He’s a Druid” was the king’s only answer.

“Is that such a crime?” she spitted. The whole thing was absurd.

Her tutor walked towards her, angry.

“His kind would see me dead and this kingdom returned to anarchy and you would help them!”

This may as well be true – maybe anarchy was better than tyranny. Still, she knew it wasn’t the time to make such considerations. The boy’s life depended on her.

“Then punish me… but spare the boy. I beg you.”

Morgana would gladly trade her own life for his – there wasn’t, after all, that much worth it; while the child had his whole life ahead of him, full of possibilities.

“Make arrangements for the boy to be executed tomorrow morning” he said, turning towards Arthur.

“No! Please” she begged. “He’s done nothing.”

“Let this be a lesson to you” Uther said in a dismissive tone, but she wasn’t ready to give up. Morgana walked closer to him, trying to make him see what a monstrous act it was.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“Do you hear me? I want him executed at dawn.” The King was already walking away, ignoring her words.

“Yes, father” answered the prince, mutely, and the quiet acceptance in Arthur’s words sparkled her anger more than Uther’s terrible judgment; not only he was behaving like and insane person, but also he was turning his own child into a merciless soul. Not only the boy’s life would be lost, but hundreds of others – on this reign and the next if the King had his way.

“What have these people done to you?” she questioned, raising her voice and marching towards her tutor. “Why are you so full of hate?” she went on, grabbing his arm.

The man turned around, grabbing her by her throat and squeezing it a bit as he walked her back and pressed her against the back of the nearest chair. No one had ever touched her that way before, and there was insanity in his eyes, burning, making her fear that he’d strangle her there. She couldn’t see Arthur, who was either paralyzed or already so numb to the kind of behavior that was considered kingly in Camelot under Uther’s reign that he didn’t even care anymore.

“Enough!” said Uther. “I will not hear another word!” not, of course, that she’d be able to say anything under his grip. “Do not speak to me until you are ready to apologize for what you’ve done!”

With a final shake, he left her and Arthur followed. All she could do was to hold her own throat and wonder how he had become such a monster.

 

* * *

Arthur couldn’t live with himself if he said nothing as followed his father through the courtyard corridors; so he started to approach the subject carefully – it would take him nowhere except, maybe, the dungeons to point out that Uther was about to murder a perfectly innocent child.

“Perhaps imprisonment is a more suitable punishment for the boy. I mean, he’s so young.”

“It would allow him to grow more powerful, more dangerous, until he strikes against us” argued his father, still walking.

“We don’t know he’s going to strike against us” rationalized Arthur. “He’s yet to do anything.”

That was the closest he’d come from pointing out how wrong it was.

“It’s enough that his people conspire to overthrow me” Arthur couldn’t remember a single instance in which the _druids_ had moved against Camelot, but it seemed that for Uther it was the same. “This is harsh, but necessary. I take no pleasure in killing the boy.”

This was an unexpected comment, never before the King had voiced any sort of problem with executing someone who he suspected that had magical problems, even if he had stood by his previous assessment. Maybe it was time to take another route; a more personal one.

“Well, then spare him for Morgana’s sake. She’s clearly grown attached to the boy, and if you execute him, I fear she will never forgive you.”

Everything she had done, and the darkness that lurked around her when she defied Uther on the council chamber – Arthur wasn’t a fool, he knew Morgana could become an terrible enemy just as she was a fierce friend.

But Uther seemed to think very little about it – he stopped dead and turned, approaching his son as if he was ready to attack him as he had done earlier to his ward.

“I do not seek her forgiveness!” he hissed, angrily. “She has betrayed me!”

“Yet you are sparing _her_ ”

Arthur couldn’t even know what made him speak like that to his father – maybe it was the way that even after treason, Morgana was better handled than he usually was; or maybe it was how clearly he could see that there was no fairness in the King’s justice.

“She has the promise I made her father to thank for that” was Uther’s cold reply. “The boy enjoys no such privilege. He will be executed at dawn, is that clear?”

There was nothing more that he could say; his father wouldn’t budge from his position and it seemed that if he pressed the matter further it would only harm not only the boy, but also Morgana.

Arthur walked away with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t even say when was the last time he had thought that Uther’s decisions weren’t the right ones – not when it came to ruling the kingdom. To find out that his father was capable of such measures and that he was far from being the ruler Arthur had always thought him to be was a bitter substitute for breakfast.

The terrible feeling of inadequacy didn’t leave him all day long. He went through the usual motions of the day, but his mind was far away, wondering just how much he would like things to be different; how he could make Camelot a better and safer place without going against his father. Arthur had no wish to quarrel with Uther; he loved his father too much, but he was no longer blind to the man’s many faults.

He was just partially surprise to find Morgana in his chambers when he arrived to it near sunset.

“Make yourself at home” he said, not without a hint of irony. He had no illusions about what had brought her over, and little did he want to think further on the matters that had already pestered him all day.

“You can’t let your father execute the boy” she announced.

“You’re lucky he’s not executing _you_ ” Arthur replied, angrily,  as he hung his coat on the back of the chair, but she seemed unmoved by the risk she was in. He walked closer, all his annoyance with her coming back to the surface as he untied his scabbard. “Are you telling me he really was behind the screen when I came to search your chambers?”

Morgana gave him a small nod, and kept on moving, trying to clear his head. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t think he would have denounced it if he had been alone and found that Morgana was caring for him.

The fact that she hadn’t trusted him enough to be honest, but chose to make a fool out of him (no, she had been right, he had made a fool of himself) hurt too. Morgana was the one person he could be true and honest with, that cared very little about his position in court and was ready to be honest with him – for better or for worse. Although part of him hated how she did it, he knew it was the one thing that had kept him grounded during the last years.

Maybe the reason he had grown fond of Merlin was that he acted around him the same way Morgana did, always hoping for the best in him. Of course, he and Merlin couldn’t really be friends, nor he and Morgana, there was too much that – no, they couldn’t be truly _friends_. Still, it was the closest thing he had to ‘friends’.

It made him feel empty to think that she didn’t feel the same way about him.

“I know you believe your father’s wrong to execute him.”

“What I believe doesn’t matter” he stressed out, as he picked up his cup. “My father’s made up his mind. He won’t be talked out of it – I tried.”

He expected her to acknowledge what he had done for her sake, but Morgana hardly ever acted as one would expect her to – instead, she stood up from the chair, incensed.

“Then the time for talking is over!”

There it was again, the darkness and the passion, her belief on what was right and fair. He admired her courage, but he feared her lack of constrain.

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not going to happen” he warned her, walking towards the window. He couldn’t face her not when she was being braver than he would ever be.

“We have to get the boy back to his people” she said, and Arthur was shocked at the implications.

“No! Forget it”

“I can’t believe you’d let an innocent child die!”

There it was – she was doing it again, hoping for the best on him when there was little. Morgana’s expectations of him were even more crushing than his father’s, for they embodied exactly what he believed to be right but didn’t have the courage to do.

“It’s too late! He’s been caught.” Arthur hoped she’d see sense and stop pushing it. “I have no choice” he apologized.

“And is this how you will rule when you are King? You’re not like your father.”

Of course, this was not the kind of thing Arthur wanted to be seen as _his_ action and _his_ rule. No, he would do thing differently. He’d never execute innocents – he’d never… How could he be the king he hoped to be if he stood by and allowed this to happen? And yet, how could his rule be effective if he was ready to defy his liege like this? How could he expect the others not to do the same when it came to him? No. There could be no double standard. He looked into her eyes as he spoke.

“I will not betray him.”

Arthur hoped she knew how much he meant with it, but he no longer thought it would be the case: Morgana was hell bent on saving this child.

“If I know you at all, you won’t stand by and let this happen” her voice was soft now, no longer demanding, and it broke him in two. What should he do, when his loyalty, his duty stood in one path and his conscience and his honor where in the opposite direction? She must have felt it, maybe on the tension of his back turned to her for the went on, her voice pleading. “Please. If you won’t do this for the boy, then do it for me.”

He couldn’t fight a smile – this was an impossible woman, as she moved and touched his arm lightly.

And he could never deny her anything, especially not when she was pleading for something he knew in his heart that was the right thing to do. He loved her – as a sister, as a friend, as the woman he hoped that would someday be his Queen.

He turned to her, slowly, and looked into her eyes.

“Tell me what you’re planning.”

<hr></hr>

Merlin often thought that the worst part of Uther’s regime was that harsh punishments for small crimes – for merely living – were so common that no one paid heed when the executioner sharpened his ax in the middle of the palace’s courtyard. There was no commotion – no excitement and no resenting whispers as another life was taken as if it were a entertainment, a show.

Still, a part of him was, unexplainably, relieved that Morgana and the boy had been caught. He couldn’t shake the Dragon’s words out of his mind, especially after he had seen so many dark futures under the seer’s touch. Maybe this was the reason the creature has advised against helping the druid.

On the other hand, there was a possibility – the one that shone within him – in which his life would lead to everything he fought for not only was going to happen, but also that even his most insane dreams would also come to be.

He couldn’t ignore that possibility either – and yet, the dragon’s advice had been full of danger. Merlin had no wish to quarrel with the dragon, and to ignore his advices could only lead to an argument.

Merlin was surprised to find not only Arthur in his chambers when he came to do his night chores, but also Morgana. She seemed tired and sad, and Arthur gave him a threatening look. At the same time, there was something deeply intimate about the way they stood – even sitting while she stood, Arthur seemed to be trying to protect her.

“Sorry. Was I interrupting something?” He said, honestly feeling embarrassed. He had often seen the two quarrel and flirt, but this was something else altogether.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with” Arthur responded haughtily. “Go make yourself useful, muck out my horses.”

It was not the kind of chore he usually did around that time of day – it was time for bath and to prepare the scrolls for the next morning, dinner and bed. Still, it was clear that Arthur just wanted him out of the way, and he gave a step back, pulling the door.

“I trust Merlin”

Morgana’s voice cut through his motion, and he stood there, unsure about what it meant. Arthur looked at one and then the other, before saying in a disbelieving voice.

“Merlin?”

Morgana turned from the servant to the prince, and while he could no longer see her face, her tone made it too clear to picture it – as did Arthur’s expressions.

“ _Yes_. And you should stop pretending that you trust anyone above him.”

For a moment, Merlin was sure that Arthur would pick up a fight with the woman, ready to protest, but in the following second his face softened and he gestured for Merlin to come inside. The warlock lost no time in doing so and closing the door.

“We’re going to break the Druid boy out of the dungeons” Arthur announced, as if he had said something as trivial as that he was competing in the next tournament.

“You can’t do that!” Merlin replied, quickly, full of fear. The real danger was if Arthur got involved with the boy; if they didn’t meet, it was unlikely that the boy would come and search for him later. He had seen the boy’s death and Arthur and Morgana’s fall from Uther’s good graces for it, he couldn’t allow it.

“We have to!” was the woman’s reply, incensed. “Uther’s going to execute him at dawn.”

Merlin knew it well enough, and he also knew too well all the possible consequences to this not to protest.

“I mean – It’s too dangerous” he said, talking straight to Morgana. “You’ve already been caught once, and if the King catches you a second time, he’ll never forgive you.”

“I’m not worried for myself” she said, bravely, and it made Merlin tremble.

“ _I am_ ” He knew his voice was pleading, desperate, and it made Arthur give in an assessing look, as if he was seeing Merlin for the first time.

“Merlin’s right. When my father finds out the boy’s escaped, he will suspect you being involved” he agreed, looking from one to the other.

“It’s suicide” said Merlin, trying with all his heart to make them give up such a mad idea – no good could come out of this.

“You must go to my father and apologize” Arthur looked at Morgana with worry marking his face. “Dine with him; he cannot hold you responsible if you’re with him when the boy escapes.”

Still, Morgana shook her head. She had grown too attached to the boy, it was almost scary.

“You need me if the plan’s to work. You can’t do this on your own.”

Arthur stared at her for a second, probably because she was right, before turning to his manservant.

“Merlin will take your place.”

“Me?” he asked, confused. He hadn’t seen himself, he had no idea to which ends his involvement would take them.

“I’m going to take the boy through the burial vaults” the Prince explained. “There’s a tunnel that leads beyond the city walls. Get my horse from the stables and meet me there. There’s a gate that covers the entrance to the tunnel. Bring a rope and a grappling hook to pull it off.”

“No – it’s…” Merlin couldn’t imagine how he hoped to smuggle the boy out if his plan meant that he was going to vandalize part of the castle. Of course, he probably could take it out with much more ease, but it would take magic, and even if he had told Morgana about his powers, he wasn’t sure that telling Arthur would be a great idea.

“Merlin, I trust you” Arthur said, seriously. “If you’re not that to meet us, we’ll surely be caught.”

The warlock shook his head.

“No – no! Let _me_ take the boy out, you’ll meet me outside – it’s easier that way. He already knows me, I may even be able to talk him into opening the gate with his magic.”

But Arthur was shaking his head, denying it.

“What if you get caught?” he said, his voice serious. “My father would execute you – no, I couldn’t live with myself. I’ll risk my chances with him.”

“Neither could I” Morgana spoke, and he looked at her, pleading, hoping she understood, and by the way she looked at him, it was clear that even if she knew that he had ways to make things run smoother, she wasn’t willing to risk his safety – something must have happened for both of them seemed sure that Uther would show them no sort of mercy.

On another moment, it would have filled him with joy to know that they cared so much; but it seemed unimportant now, and their care might cause their downfall.

“Please” he asked, one more time, and Morgana came over to him and held his hands.

“Merlin, _no_ ” he didn’t miss the way Arthur looked at them both, and it made him blush. “You are our friend, and we won’t risk you.”

The Prince stood up and clapped his back.

“I’m counting on you.”

And there was nothing he could do to prevent what might come out of it, the residual warmth of Arthur’s hand at the same time a burden and a comfort as he walked away to make sure everything was ready.

* * *

Gwen was very quiet as she helped Morgana to get ready for dinner – her maid hadn’t said a single word since she explained what she was about to do, but Morgana was too distracted to notice it.

“Thank you” she said, softly, and she meant it – not only about the hair and the clothes, but for everything she had done in the past few days to help when Morgana had risked her so much.

When she turned around, she saw that Gwen looked troubled.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Gwen bit her lower lip for a moment, as she often did when she was unsure on how to voice her thoughts,  and then she spoke, her words rushed as if she could no longer control herself.

“You’re risking so much for this boy. You don’t know anything about him – you don’t even know his name.”

Even Morgana herself didn’t completely understand how the boy had grown so much inside her heart, as if they were – as if they had always been and would always be – family.

“There’s a bond between us” she said, simply.

“Stronger than the bond you have with Uther?”

Gwen seemed honestly not to believe it possible, and Morgana’s hands immediately ran to her neck, where Uther’s hand had held her a few hours earlier.

“The King forsook anything we might have had” Morgana said, knowing it to be true – it would never be the same, not when she now knew that he might strike her at any moment, that he might even kill her with his own hands. “And this… It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Perhaps I was always meant to help him.”

 “How can that be?” Gwen resisted to such explanations, she was a rational person and was never the kind of girl who believed in women’s intuition or dreams.

“I don’t know, I can’t explain it”.

There was nothing logical about how protective she was of the boy, Morgana knew it. Still, Uther would expect explanations, and it was good that she thought about them before she met him – they had to be convincing. Gwen merely sighed and shook her head.

“I must go to Uther.”

Morgana turned towards the door and was almost out when her maid finally spoke up.

“Good luck.”

As she walked towards the Council Chamber, where the king usually had his evening meal, she couldn’t help but thinking that her whole life was now a lie balancing themselves on half-truths. She walked to ask for forgiveness that she did not seek in order to gain it from the person she really believed to have failed.

Morgana was inside a maze that she could not get out – in order to follow her heart, she had to deny who she was, and it would never end. She figured it was probably much of the same of what Merlin felt, both pretending in order to survive Uther’s reign, dreaming of a better future under the rule of a man she wasn’t sure that would be brave enough to leave the long shadow cast by his father.

She didn’t need to feign the tears that ran through her cheeks when she walked inside, they were completely honest and a reflex of how trapped she felt. The king merely raise his head towards her, inquiring with his look.

“I have come to apologize, My Lord” she said, easily, having practiced it all before. “You have been generous and kind and fair. I owe you everything. I truly… I don’t know what came over me. I acted without thinking of the consequences, the whole thing – I thought only of the boy. I…” she raised her eyes, and Uther’s eyes seemed to be scanning through her soul, looking for the truth and she knew that, right now, there was no need to lie. “He’s so young, My Lord. Almost young enough to be my own – hurt and scared, and I couldn’t… It was stronger than me, an instinct. I cared for him like a mother hen, and I did not see the harm it could bring to Camelot. I am so sorry.”

She gasped, for it was easier to lie than to reveal herself like that, but the King seemed to understand it too well.

“You are only a woman, sometimes I forget” said Uther, nodding. “There are things that you cannot help yourself with – maybe it’s time for you to marry, if you are so eager to care for others, for children.”

Morgana gasped, once again, shocked at the suggestion.

“My Lord!” she said, surprised. “I… It was a moment’s weakness. I have no wish to leave your house.”

“One way or the other, I’m glad you’ve seen sense” He said, seriously. “Dine with me. Let’s put this… unfortunate incident behind us. Everything else can wait.”

Morgana took her seat at the opposite end of the table, and soon Uther’s manservant was pouring her wine and another servant brought her a plate. The King spoke of inconsequential things, not returning to the subject of the boy or of marriage.

They were almost done when the warning bells rang, and Morgana had to fight to stay calm as she wondered if the boys had been caught or not. A few minutes later, one of the guards stepped inside.

“My Lord. I regret to report that the Druid boy has escaped from the dungeon.”

Morgana felt the relief wash over her as she heard it, and she barely heard Uther’s outraged response or the guard’s explanation.

“Find him and his accomplices and kill them.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Morgana hoped that both Arthur and Merlin had managed to get away from the scene before they found out how the boy had escaped. Uther was standing, already by her side, and she turned to face him, schooling her expression not to reveal anything.

“If I discover that you were somehow involved in freeing this boy, the consequences will be extremely severe” he warned, and she felt a chill going through her body.

“My Lord! I have told you that I’m sorry – I would never lie to you like that.”

And it was partially true, for there had been many things she meant mixed with her lies.

“I made a promise to your father that I would protect you, but if you cross me again, I will break that promise without a second thought.”

Uther walked out and Morgana let out a sigh of relief, no longer having to hide her despise for the man that she was supposed to honor and follow as a liege.

* * *

Merlin was not surprised to find Morgana pacing around her chambers when he managed to get back to the castle. He hadn’t knocked, with all the commotion, it would be better if he was behind closed doors as soon as possible – the guards were asking too many questions and he didn’t have a good reason to be outside Gaius’ chambers, especially since Arthur was supposed to be out.

Her green eyes travelled straight to him, wide and waiting and he could feel her anxiety from afar.  He couldn’t speak, he was still short of breath after running back in, he just smiled at her, knowing it would be enough for her to understand.

“Oh” she muttered, falling on the nearest stool. “Thank god. I was so worried – for all of you!”

“It went smoothly” Merlin reassured, standing straight. “They were already outside when I met them – the boy was able to open the gate. He’s very gifted.”

Morgana rose again, serving a glass of wine, but instead of taking it, she offered it to Merlin. He couldn’t deny he was thirsty – his lips felt dry. It felt a bit weird that someone was serving on him, but soon she fetched another glass and poured some to herself as well.

“I should get going” he said as he finished up. “Gaius…”

“I need to ask you something first” she interrupted, looking inside his eyes. Somehow, he felt as if he knew what she was going to say even before she said it. “Tell me – when that girl Sophia was over, I had a nightmare… Well, a few nightmares, really, about her.”

Merlin could only nod slightly as she went on – he should have known.

“I dreamed she was trying to kill Arthur” Morgana continued, her voice trembling a little. “I was… At first, Gaius told me it was just a dream and… Then, afterwards, I managed to convince him that something was wrong, that she was up to something, and he said I should come to my chambers and wait, for neither of us could do anything about it, but that he’d find someone who could. It – it was you, wasn’t it? He went _for you_ , not because you could talk Arthur into coming back, but because there was magic at work.”

“Yes” he said. There was no point in denying it.

“She bewitched him” the woman gasped. “Tell me the truth of what happened”.

Morgana’s voice left little space for arguing, and Merlin saw no reason to lie – she knew his biggest secret, it was only natural that he’d share more with her. Slowly, unsure of how to explain it all, he explained to her in detail how he had followed the three of them and found Sophia offering Arthur as a sacrifice in the Avalon Lake; how he had defeated her father first and then attacked the girl. His heart felt a bit heavy – he had never expected to become a murdered, but he knew he’d do it all over again if it meant keeping Arthur safe. In the end, there was a mix of relief and fear in her features.

“She tried to drown him” Morgana repeated, looking at Merlin. “Just as I saw in my dream.”

There was very little he could say about that, so he stood still.

“How is it possible?” she asked, standing up again and walking around fretfully. “How can I have dreamed of something yet to happen?”

“I thought it had happened before” Merlin said, confused. He was sure that Gaius had said so.

“It has” she agreed, but it was clear that she was still nervous. “More times than I can count, but never – never like this.” Morgana looked at him, and it was clear now that she feared for herself.

“I think you have a …” he started, but she shook her head.

“That’s not all – when the boy was sick, I was sure I had heard him calling my name – but Gwen said she heard nothing. It was like – like—as if he had been _inside_ my head.” Her eyes were wide open, and she looked confused a more than a bit terrified. “Am I losing my mind?”

“I heard it too” Merlin said, trying to calm him down. “Gaius told me that the druids seek children with those abilities to train – to help them. This was how I found him – he heard him crying for help in my mind.”

“But you are…” she didn’t dare to say it, and Merlin felt hurt against his better judgment.

“A sorcerer?” he asked, wondering if he had taken a risk too big when he told her the truth about himself. “Yes.”

“I’m not… I never…” Morgana seemed at loss for words, and it wasn’t the kind of think Merlin was used to seeing. “No one ever believed when I spoke about my dreams, they said they were just nightmares!

“You are a seer” he said, pretending to be much more relaxed than he really was. “It is a gift, as is my magic, and you didn’t choose it any more than I chose it – or the boy.”

“Is that… magic?” she asked, confused and at loss. “Does this mean… That I’ll develop _powers_?”

“We’ll have to wait and see” he said, looking at her and seeing himself, exactly as he had been when Will had refused to talk to him for a week after finding out, when his mother had sent him packing to Camelot in a hurry, or when Gaius had insisted for him that he should forsake magic: alone and scared. He mustered a smile for her sake. “But one way or the other, I will be here for you.”

Merlin may have expected many reactions – maybe a watery smile, for she seemed ready to break down, but soon her arms were around him, pulling him closely when he hadn’t even seen her approaching, her lips were against his forehead and he could feel her tears in his hair, and as they parted, they saw she was smiling in relief and gratefulness.

For the first time since he had met the old druid seer in the edge of the forest, Merlin knew everything would be fine.

* * *

It took Arthur almost a couple days to be back within Camelot’s walls, immediately summoned to his father’s presence to complain about his hasty departure, the boy’s escape and a number of other things. He had spent two nights away, but it seemed like a lifetime. The man that stood in the throne room was a completely different one to the man that had last stood before the King.

Of course, his father did not notice it – Arthur had been careful to bring back a beautiful deer, making sure that they would have venison for their evening meal. Of course that shooting things had been the least impressive thing he had done since leaving his father’s presence – he had defied him in manners he had never expected before; and it hadn’t been easy either.

First of all, he had to send a word to the druids, and while it wasn’t hard to find in the royal records those who were suspicious of associating with the druids, after his first encounter with them, no one was willing to be forthcoming about it, and Arthur couldn’t really blame them. It had taken him a great deal of persuading and actually showing the contents of his letter – Florindale had been sure that it was a ploy, that she would have been tagged in order for the King to find the site.

She had met him close the city, coming from to the general direction she had indicated him; and still they would not allow him to come to their camp, choosing to meet in a clearing nearing Derry Hill. It wasn’t far from Camelot, indeed he had arrived shy of the sunrise. Most of the time he had been out, he had been hunting in order not to raise any sort of suspicion about his mysterious disappearance. It would do no one good if Uther somehow decided to be suspicious of Arthur’s absence.

He had waited patiently for his father to finish his speech and dismiss him, hoping to tell himself to Morgana that the boy was safe, but the king had other ideas – he set a number of chores for him, and while Merlin had soon warned her of his return, it wasn’t until near sunset that he managed to find time to go to her chambers.

Gwen opened the door for him, and left immediately, leaving them alone – and Arthur was unsure if she had something else to do or if Morgana had dismissed her; the two of them were very close, enough so that Morgana would want to protect Gwen even from herself. The least she knew, the better – Uther had very little consideration towards their servants as he had made abundantly clear lately while imprisoning Gwen and leaving Merlin to die for having saved Arthur’s life.

“It took you long enough” Morgana said, and there was a challenge in her voice that Arthur couldn’t understand – but also wouldn’t bother to acknowledge.

“Some of us actually do something all they long” he answered, smirking, and she gave him a small smile and shook her head.

“Yes, playing soldier, I know.”

“It’s not playing –“ Arthur begun, but she interrupted him.

“Is the boy alright?”

“He’s fine – he’s safe” Arthur answered his brow furrowing as he saw the unmistakable signs of relief in her face. “Surely you would know if we were caught.”

“He was sick” she said, sternly. “He almost died a few days ago – and he must had been scared to death, he didn’t even manage to speak…”

Morgana had begun to pace, twisting her fingers with her hand in a show of worry. Arthur took a step closer and held her hands, stopping her.

“He’s fine. He’s safe. It’s over. His people will take care of him.”

She gave him a small nod, her face still clearly distraught. Arthur walked her a few steps back, making her sit in her own bed as he crouched in front of her. He was amazed – Morgana hardly ever seemed that out of control.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” he muttered, his mouth against her trembling hands.

Morgana gave him a small smile.

“I can’t explain it” she said, her voice strangled. “I didn’t even know his name, but there was… a bond between us. I can’t… I don’t know…”

She shook her head, looking at him again, and Arthur felt a sudden urge to protect her.

“Mordred” he said, clearing his throat and trying to lock his feelings away. “His name is Mordred.”

“Mordred” she said, as if she was testing the name – hadn’t it been a small child, Arthur would wonder if she had fallen for the boy after seeing the tenderness in her face; but he was just a child, he reminded himself, wishing away his sudden jealousy. “It’s a beautiful name.”

Arthur had nothing to say to that, so he just let go of her hands and stood up.

“I should…” he started, but Morgana interrupted him once again.

“I need to talk to you.”

Part of him told him to run away – all of his last conversations with her had led him away from his father; away from his duty. It was true that it also had led him closer to the man he wanted to be, but it was always a risk, walking on a slippery slope. Everything she had revealed had been a burden, and emotional as she was, it was likely she would turn herself to matters that he was not yet ready to discuss – that he wasn’t ready to admit.

“Morgana…” he started, trying to get himself out of this one.

“It’s important” she said, standing up and looking at him for a moment before sighing. “I am not going to ask you anything” she added, and Arthur wondered if she could read his mind.

“Has my father said anything to you these last days?” he asked, finally, since it was clear he would have to face the problem, whatever it was.

She gave him an amused look before shaking her head.

“Yes, he has been saying it’s time for me to marry, but…”

“I’m not ready” Arthur blurted out, suddenly, and she let out a small laugh.

“I don’t think _you_ crossed his mind” she said, smiling. “It would be a loss of a valuable exchange he could make giving me to someone else.”

It pained him to see her talk about it as if it mattered little, but he soldiered on.

“I always thought you were being raised to be my queen” he said, shaking his head. “He never took on any other proposals seriously.”

Morgana smiled at him, coming closer and caressing his face lightly.

“And I would have gladly accepted that, if it were the case” her voice was soft, softer than he had ever heard, and he looked away from her fearing what sort of impulses he would have  looking at her like that, admitting his ideas like that. “Alas, it isn’t. Also, this not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Once again, Arthur shut himself up, standing a bit straighter as he stared at her.

“What is it?”

Morgana bit her lip, unsure, and took a step back. When she spoke again, her voice was rushed.

“Do you remember Sophia…?”

Arthur couldn’t help but flinch, he would rather not think about _those_ days.

“Unfortunately” he said, looking away from her for a second. “But why…?”

“I told you she was up to no good.”

“I thought we had already established that I don’t need help making a fool of myself, especially when it comes to things like _this_.”

That made her give him a small smile, but it soon vanished.

“I dreamed…” she paused for a second, and then begun again. “Before she arrived in Camelot, I dreamed she was kidnapping you – I dreamt of you getting hurt and in her care.”

Now it was Arthur’s time to laugh – not this again!

“Morgana… You had a nightmare and assumed it was her.”

“I did not” she replied, clearly angry now. “It was her and I recognized her as soon as I saw her – and it is not the first time. There were many times before…”

“You should talk to Gaius to adjust your potion” he said, dismissing it. He was tired and didn’t have time for Morgana’s fancies.

“There’s nothing Gaius can do for me” she said, briskly. “And you can ask him yourself if you don’t trust me enough.”

“Morgana…” Arthur started, already tired of it.

“I am a seer” she said, her head held high and her stare piercing him.

He stopped for a second, stunned, and then sighed.

“You should…”

“You can ask Gaius – he will tell you. I am a Seer, Arthur, and I was born with this gift – and maybe other gifts too, I do not know. But I am telling you, I am a Seer, and my dreams _do_  come true.”

Arthur could only stare, thinking back on the many times Morgana had come to talk about her nightmares; how often they had indeed been an omen of what was to come, but his mind couldn’t wrap itself around the idea that the girl he had grown up with was… That she had something so close to magic inside her. They stayed in silence for a long time, and there was nothing else that he could say – he couldn’t even believe his own ears or the evidence his memory kept giving him.

He didn’t know what he could do or why she had told him that, so, Arthur did that only thing that he knew he wanted to do.

He left.

* * *

Merlin had been called away from his dinner by a very scared looking scullery maid – Anya or Reya, he could never really tell them apart – saying that the Prince probably could do with some help. There was no way to describe just how high Gaius’ eyebrows went after such commentary, but Merlin knew better than to waste time enquiring what had happened – surely he would find out as soon as he got to Arthur’s chambers.

The noises are loud even when he’s still a few steps away from the door. The guard standing on the corner of the adjacent hall were wincing every time something clashes with the wall (Merlin is quite sure it is the wall because it is followed by a softer noise announcing the arrival of the item in the floor. Just what he needed, more stuff to tidy up). He was halfway scared that – with his luck – he was going to be knocked out as soon as he walked inside, but some god was merciful enough to avoid it.

Arthur took a look at him and dropped the plate in his hand, his cheeks burning. Merlin wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment. Although he had often seen Arthur throwing a tantrum, it had never before _actually_ meant throwing stuff around. A quick survey at the room revealed broken water jar, two crests that seemed to have fallen off the mantelpiece, a turned over chair, a shield and a silver cup across the floor. Arthur was now seating at the edge of his bed, looking completely lost.

“You’re scaring people” said Merlin, his tone even.

“No one saw.”

Merlin couldn’t fight the snort.

“Well, yes, but it can be heard from the other side of the castle. I’m almost sure the guard in the serpent hallway is going to have a sore shoulder from all the wincing he was doing.”

“Coward” Arthur muttered, but there was no heat in it.

They stayed silent for a little while until Merlin decided that, whatever it was, Arthur would take his time to manage it into words – he wasn’t very good with them – so it was better to start to solve the mess in the room. He put the chair back in place, hung the shield and the crests and is halfway through collecting the plate when Arthur finally spoke up.

“Morgana is a seer.”

The sheer surprise of it made him drop the thing with a loud “clunk”. Arthur winced a bit, and Merlin felt the sweat running through his back – what had she told him?

“She says… She saw…” he stops, and Merlin just stared at the prince, not knowing what to say. “Tell me the truth: I got hurt when I was away with Sophia?”

Merlin could barely swallow, but he nodded, and Arthur snorted.

“Morgana claims to have dreamed of it. She says it’s a gift…” his voice dropped as he stood up and started to walk around for a while before looking straight at Merlin. “Did you know?”

“Um…” Merlin didn’t know what to say, but it took everything he had to lie about himself, day in and day out, so he just nodded again. Arthur snorted, once again.

“Of course you knew. You _always_ know everything – long before I do, or that my father even suspects it. What a bunch of fools we must look to you!”

Arthur made a wide move with his arm, as if he was swinging a sword and it sent the cup Merlin had just retrieved flying again.

“Gaius told me” he finally found his voice, and defended himself as much as he could. “He hoped… The potions… He hoped he’d make it go away. He didn’t even want her to know for the longest time…” to be honest, Merlin still hadn’t told the old man that Morgana knew both about his powers and about hers;  it felt too much like betrayal, and he still hadn’t forgotten the physician’s reluctance to heal the druid boy – Mordred. “He was – he _is_ – scared of what the King would do if he found out.”

Arthur shook his head, not looking at his servant.

“Aren’t we all?” he said, finally.

The prince threw himself back in his bad, staring up and Merlin went back to putting things in their places. The air was heavy with tension, but neither spoke, and for a while, the only sounds were from Merlin’s movements in the room.

“Why did she have to tell me?” wondered Arthur, and Merlin frowned at such a question. He stopped what he was doing and walked closer to the prince, knowing that he had to say his mind looking at the man or he’d never stop wondering what he really thought beneath the little he said.

“Would you have her lie?” Merlin asked, fighting not to fidget. “Would you have her hiding and suffering it alone? Can you imagine what it would be like – such a secret and no one to turn to?”

Arthur sat up, clearly ashamed of his behavior when Morgana had to deal with so much.

“Who knows what could have happened? Anyone – she would have turned to anyone willing to help, and the person might have no qualms to use her against Camelot…”

The prince let out a small laugh, disbelieving.

“Morgana is made of harder stuff than you give her credit for” he said, confident. “She wouldn’t be turned away just because…”

“… just because if the King finds out he’d put her in a pyre? Just because she can never say the truth about herself or trust anyone to accept her? Just because she’d be judged for something she never chose? Just because she’d be seen as liability and a traitor?” supplied Merlin, unable to silence himself anymore. “The pressure would kill her – it would kill anyone – and just finding out the truth…” Merlin looked Arthur in the eye, his voice loosing the confident streak and turning softer, mourning. “She’s already broken.”

Arthur’s eyes had also changed, somewhere between grief and worry. He took a deep breath and let his head fall, looking at his hands.

“She shouldn’t have told me – I’m not… I _can’t_ do this, Merlin. I’ll always be torn between her and my father – not knowing where my duty lies. _I_ am not strong enough for this” he muttered, all his arrogance and self-confidence breaking in a ragged gasp.

Merlin couldn’t help but kneel right in front of him, holding Arthur’s hands as if he was about the swear fealty. It broke him inside to see Arthur that way, and to stand by him had already become a second nature to the warlock.

“You _can_ do this – if anyone can do this, it is you, Arthur.” The other man snorted, denying it with his head, and Merlin went on. “I have seen – the king, the _man_ you’re becoming, and you _always_ do the right thing for others; as a prince should. You, Arthur… I know it is not easy to feel like you’re being torn apart from the different things people tell you that is right, but I am _sure_ that you can deal with this, that you can make what is fair and right in spite of it all – Uther didn’t manage to stop you from saving me, and it didn’t stop you from saving Mordred…”

“… It was her” Arthur complained, with a shudder. “She managed to talk me into both – without her, I’d never have…”

“Do you regret it?” the servant asked, his tone soft.

“No” was the answer, shaking his head. “That’s the worst of it – I betrayed him twice and I can’t even… I couldn’t look at myself if I hadn’t…” He raised his head, staring Merlin in the eye, his own full of unshed tears. “Am I becoming a bad son? A traitor of my king and my kingdom?”

“Never” Merlin answered, full of certainty. “You’ve only done what’s right for you – what good is obedience if it isn’t tempered with judgment?”

Arthur snorted.

“You’d say that – you’re completely incapable of following orders.”

For the first time, Merlin didn’t rise to the bait and didn’t let the conversation turn into their usual banter; he knew he had to say his piece or regret it forever. His eyes never left Arthur’s as he spoke.

“You were not made to follow, Arthur, but to _guide_. And I, for one, am ready to go wherever you lead.”

It was clear that the message had gotten across – there was something in the very air that showed that his pledge had been heard, as if the magic of the land was writing his words in the fabric of the world. The night was sudden thick with emotion and magic, in a way that he couldn’t explain, and all along Arthur’s blue eyes were in his, his skin prickling with anticipation their hands clasped together in a promise – but of what, Merlin couldn’t say.

It wasn’t sudden, but it was such a perfectly smooth move, so natural and _right_ that Merlin didn’t notice how unusual it was until it was done – until Arthur’s mouth was in his and he was parting his lips to allow the touch to deepen. He didn’t think of it as they kissed, and it never felt like the first time they were kissing, for it seemed, then, that they had always been bound to get there. It was not lust and passion, and it wasn’t just loyalty – it was something else altogether, all and none of those things that could not be translated in any other way.

Arthur’s lips were soft even if his moves were a bit harsh, their tongues meeting as every barrier melted and they were bared in front of each other; every wall dismantled – nothing mattered in that moment, not the secrets they kept, not their hopes and fears, no distinction could be made – no rank, no clothes, no lies stood in between them. In that moment, they were equals.

Merlin felt as if he was sinking, gasping for air as Arthur pulled him closer, grasping his shirt, the kiss changing into something else, into a desperate touch, full of desires they both had been too scared to face before. They were falling into an abyss and the gods only knew where it would have taken them if the door hadn’t opened suddenly.

The two men broke apart, but it was impossible to hide what had just happened – their clothes were wrinkled, their mouths were swollen. Merlin turned in fear of what he’d see as Arthur’s face paled, and he saw Morgana standing in front of the door that was still slightly open.

“I’m sorry” she said, fidgeting. “I didn’t… I thought…”

Merlin felt terrible – he knew, in that moment, just what he had made her think; and it hadn’t been a lie or a play, but things that he had indeed felt; it was too confusing – he didn’t know, couldn’t know how to wrap his head around the mixed, confusing feelings he had – around some sort of choice he never knew he would one day have to make. But Arthur was far ahead of him.

“Morgana!” he said, his voice strangled. “It isn’t…”

“It is” she said, with a small smile. “It has always been and it will always be – just as it should.”

“No” pleaded Arthur, standing up and walking closer to her. “Morgana, I…”

“It is alright” she said, her voice a bit shaking. Her eyes turned to Merlin, who had stood up, but still couldn’t bring himself to walk closer. “You’ll stand with him and I…”

Her voice died and Merlin felt his own heart breaking at her resigned farewell.

“It doesn’t have to be like this” he said, finally coming closer to her. “We can find another way.”

“There is no other way” she whispered, sadly.

“There is” Arthur said, his voice firm and his movements sure as he closed on her and took her face in his hands and kissed her too. Morgana went rigid and pulled away, shaking her head.

“No, Arthur” she pleaded. “Let’s not fool ourselves – we all know what lies in your heart”

The prince looked at his manservant – wondering, pleading, showing just how far he was willing to go for what he believed to be right, and Merlin was stuck anew with wonder at the man he was becoming, amazed to understand just what was in the other man’s head.

“I agree” he said, cleaning his throat. “Let’s not fool ourselves”

And he gave a step forward, holding her hand as if he was about to kiss it, but instead of lower himself, he used his other hand to caress her face. Morgana’s eyes were wide, she was clearly somewhere between confused and outraged at his actions, and he decided to take his chances and leaned towards her, touching her mouth lightly where Arthur had done forcefully. Although his own eyes were closed, he could feel hers widen, and the warmth of Arthur’s body closed upon them as he caressed her nape and hair, his other arm gripping firmly on Merlin.

“We can have it all” Arthur whispered as they smiled at him. “And nothing will come between us – nothing can, not while we’re true to each other. And we shall be stronger for it, for we’ll be dividing but never loosing.” He let go of them, standing up taller before addressing Morgana. “My lady, do you agree?”

“Yes” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Oh, Arthur… Yes.”

“Merlin?” he asked, raising his eyebrow, but he knew the answer – Merlin had already made himself clear enough earlier without meaning to.

“I’ll be always with you” said the warlock, and his eyes moved from one to the other. “It whatever way you want me to.”

Morgana allowed her emotions to show in hugging him closely while Arthur smiled, his eyes warmer than Merlin could have ever dreamed.

Merlin knew that much stood in their way – that such things were easier said than done, that they had too many secrets left in between them, that the road ahead would be long and hard, but he couldn’t worry too much. At least, they could try three (and it was bound to be better than being just one).

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hope it wasn't too terrible and I know the understanding between them comes too easily and may even feel rushed, but I -think- that after breaking so many boundaries of what was expected of them, one more didn't feel like that much, yes? 
> 
> Now let me go back to my paperlegends fic for I don't want to be shamed in being late once again.
> 
> Cheers!


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